


The Weight of a Crown

by Defira



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Beach Sex, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Female Character of Color, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth Swann- now Elizabeth Turner- has lived a relatively quiet life since her husband vanished beneath the waves. By rights, she is still a Captain, and still King of the Brethren Court, but her duties have been few. But duty cannot be cast aside so easily, and Calypso has sworn vengeance on the Brethren Court. She will have the king as her most loyal servant- or she will take the blood owed to her. </p>
<p>PWP written for Femslash February/the Fembruary Challenge on Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of a Crown

There was a storm in the air. 

It was hot, humid in the most unpleasant of ways. Sweat ran down the curve of her spine, her cotton shift damp and clinging, chafing until she wanted to rip it over her head and fling it into the corner in frustration, wearing nothing but her skin and her irritation until the storm had passed. She tried to pin her hair up and away from her neck, but to no avail.

She should have been used to nights such as this, nights where the air held the promise of power and violence. There would be a spectacular storm, the sort that only came once every couple of seasons. It would be a night of death and fear and awe, where the ships in the harbour would strain at their moorings, determined to dash themselves against the pier and slide beneath the inky waves. There would be floods from the hills, and debris in the air, and come the morning there would be an aching silence as the town reeled back from the destruction. She remembered such nights from her days as a girl in Port Royal, unable to sleep as the rain lashed the windows and the maids pulled her away from the windows and the lightning did its best to crack open the heavens. 

She used to believe that there would come a day when such a calamity would befall them- the lightning would rend open the sky, and the stars would pour through, leaving the firmament black and empty. She liked to imagine running out to catch a star, to scoop up a handful of them and hide them at the back of her wardrobe, in the cool dark they preferred. She would wear them as jewellery, pin them in her hair and string them around her neck like pearls. 

Even in the midst of the destruction and chaos of the hurricanes, she had seen only beauty and the potential for great power. It said a lot about the girl she had been, and the woman she had become. Only a girl with a fascination for the fantastical could have grown into a woman who scarcely batted an eye at undead pirates and ancient sorcery and sirens and forbidden realms and the goddess who ruled over them all with a dark and crooked smile. 

Elizabeth went to the open window, staring out across the pirate town and down to the bay, her eyes going to the horizon. The storm was coming, the midnight black clouds lit up from within by the occasional flicker of lightning. The harbour was growing choppy, and the coloured pennants on the masts dipped up and down as the ships rolled in the waves. It was late afternoon, but it was already dark, the clouds stealing away the sun, blackening the sky; the town was a muddled cluster of lights clinging to the side of the hill, but it was muted and dim. The normal cacophony of noise was absent, and she could see only a handful of figures ducking through the streets, dark little shapes like ants scurrying for cover.

Another flash on the horizon drew her eye back, and she looked up. The blur between the sea and the clouds hinted at the wild rains that were already thrashing over the waves, and she breathed deeply through her nose. 

There was power in the air, wild and tempting. She could almost feel the pull of the tide, tugging through her veins like a second heartbeat. 

This was no normal storm. 

Elizabeth had enough experience with magic to recognise that much. 

She reached out of the window frame and pulled the shutters closed, latching them firmly from the inside. The room grew dim without the light, only the embers in the fire to guide her way; she felt their heat even from the other side of the room, another bead of sweat running down her back. She secured the glass and made certain the rain would not get through.

Short of a tree coming through the wall, of course. 

She thought about taking a coat, shrugged off the idea; it was too hot, and Tortuga had seen worse things than a woman walking around in naught more than a night gown. 

Taking the stairs quickly, she found her only maidservant, a pirate’s widow by the name of Marleen, sitting and darning socks at the table. William was nearly two now, and was scarcely able to keep style. He wore through socks and the knees on his pants faster than they could repair them. The older woman had the window open and had rolled her sleeves up past her elbows. Sweat was shining on her brow and she glanced up as Elizabeth came in.

“Marleen,” she said, “I am going out for a few hours. Keep William safe for me, will you?”

The woman pulled a face that told her exactly what she thought of her request. “Going out in a storm like that one’s a death wish, ma’am,” she said, frowning over the sock in her hand. “Only the foolish and the foolhardy venture out in weather like this.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m both then,” Elizabeth said, pausing by the door. “Is William still down for his nap?”

“Aye, that he is ma’am. Out like a light.”

“Give him a light supper when he wakes. I shan’t be long.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, pushing through the door and securing it behind her. She stopped to make sure the shutters on the ground floor were secure, before setting off down the worn path towards the town. The worn cobblestones were warm beneath her toes, and when the path forked she abandoned the road and took the sandy path, winding between the grass and the trees as she headed away from Tortuga and towards the beach. If she strained, she could just hear the distant rumble of thunder, so faint that it was more of a feeling than a sound. She kicked up the sand as she rain, and it clung to her sweat soaked legs. There was salt on the air, sharp enough that when she licked her lips she could taste the brine.

Her senses were on high alert, everything brighter and sharper and more vibrant than it was normally. The salt, the sting of the sweat, the whisper of the wind through the long grass, the hammering of her own heart in her ears- it was all more alive than it had a right to be. The colours were enough to hurt her eyes, and as she crested the hill and took in the sea it made her heart ache fiercely. 

The horizon was black, and the sea was bottle green, choppy and foamy as the waves beat relentlessly at the white shore. It was a heartbeat, a pulse, a song- it sang of freedom, echoing in her blood. It was the song of one woman, her siren call, her summons to arms. 

You could not deny the call of Calypso. 

Walking slowly along the beach, Elizabeth watched the horizon, waiting. She thought that perhaps there was some sort of sacrament she should be observing, some custom or rite that honoured the goddess. But then again, Calypso was as capricious as the sea over which she ruled. What delighted her one day would probably be met with contempt on the next. There was nothing that she could offer but herself- and really, wasn’t that why she had been called?

She had sworn vengeance on the Brethren Court, and she would not be denied. She came for her king, her first and most powerful servant. 

There was a flash of lightning and she was there, between one blink and the next, as if she had always been there and Elizabeth just hadn’t been looking closely enough. She came in the form of the witch, Tia Dalma, the body they had confined her to so long ago. There was something insubstantial about her, as if the woman walking towards her was just an illusion; there was something larger and darker shimmering behind the veil of normalcy, something that seethed and roiled like the storm on the horizon. 

There was a hint of rot on the breeze as she approached, like seaweed lying under the sun along the sand for too long. There was spiced rum and incense, blood and salt. Her feet touched the surface of the waves as she walked, but did not sink beneath them, and the water seemed to reach up almost longingly in a desperate attempt to touch her, before reaching a crest and falling away again.

Did she bow and beg for her life, prostrating herself before the goddess, or would it be better to stand tall, meet her as an equal? 

Calypso paused a dozen feet from shore, a broad smile playing over her lips. She was even more beautiful than Elizabeth remembered, her power uninhibited now and her cruelty undeniable. 

The goddess perused her leisurely, her eyes wandering openly over her body. Elizabeth felt a flush of heat under the weight of her gaze, her blood pounding fiercely in her ears, the warmth in her belly only growing warmer as Calypso’s smile widened. It was childish glee mixed with ancient violence, velvet smooth and dagger sharp.

“And this be how a king greets a queen?” Oh, that wicked voice, smug and satisfied and enough to leave her reeling like she’d just thrown back a swig of cheap whisky. “I remember a proud woman, fit to be king of the sea- yet all I see before me is a lonely housewife.”

The words cut deep, deeper than she was willing to admit. “I am still your king,” she said defiantly, lifting her chin, “and if I am lonely, it is only because my husband serves you instead of standing by my side.”

Calypso smiled wide, teeth black and gold, the gleam of her eyes far from human. “You made your vows to me first,” she said. “Long before your husband came to my service. Your loyalty be first to me, child.”

“And I have come, as you have demanded,” Elizabeth said. “I felt your summons and I did not deny it.”

“That is brave of you, child,” Calypso said, somehow closer even though Elizabeth had not seen her move her feet. “Wise too. There have been many men who have sought to deny, thinking that they knew better than I.” She spat into the water, a dark stain like ink. “But you… you are smarter than them, yes?”

“I am not yet dead,” Elizabeth said, “so I feel I have some talent for survival, at the very least.”

The lightning flickered on the horizon, the light playing over the dark curves of Calypso’s skin. As if it came from within her body, and the lights in the distance were a mimicry of the power flickering beneath her skin.

“And you are smart enough to listen when a woman calls you like a lover,” the goddess said, the words sending a ripple of awareness over her skin. “You do not deny the call of the sea.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms, the breeze starting to pick up. It tugged at her night gown, the hem drifting above her knees and exposing her legs. “I know that it would be foolish to do so,” she said plainly.

Calypso drifted closer again, her eyes sparkling, the waves lapping desperately at her feet. “I am fond of fools,” she said, her smile all teeth and violence. “Fools and liars and thieves- all are fit to serve the waves and the dark deep, in the end of all things.”

“Do you summon me here for my death?” Elizabeth said bluntly, tired of the cryptic words of the goddess. Her nerves were on end, her body afire with raw arousal the likes of which she had not felt since she had lain with Will. “Has your time for vengeance come?”

“Oh, no, no, no, dear child, sweet king o’ mine,” Calypso said, close enough now to reach out long, tapered fingers and run them slowly along the curve of Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I am here for what is mine, but not as you would assume it.”

Elizabeth shivered and closed her eyes. “If you desire a consort, I am certain you need not look far. There are any number of-”

“A queen would have a king as her lover, would she not?”

Those words sent a flood of heat between her legs. “I am loyal to my husband,” she said, with not quite as much conviction as she would have liked. The waves lapped at her toes, the rhythm more sensual than she would have believed possible. Calypso smelled of smoke and spice, of salt and brine and rot and tar. Just standing beside her was enough to leave her head reeling, as if she had spent an entire evening losing herself in a bottle of rum. 

“A woman has needs, does she not?”

A woman did, curse it all. Her hand between her legs in the darkness was never enough, the memory of Will in their place growing as insubstantial as smoke with each new day. Her husband had been a kind lover, if not an adventurous one, but time had hardly been on their side. His attentions had not been lacking, but it had been too long now since she had felt adoring hands on her skin, heard the whisper of awed prayers pressed against her flesh by an eager mouth. 

“Your husband is bound to a life sentence,” Calypso said with a sigh that sounded almost mournful, almost sympathetic. Her fingers continued to explore, finding the collar of her gown and tracing the outline of her collarbone. “And he can only come to you once every ten years. This you know.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth whispered, unable to stop herself from gasping at the touch of fingertips on bare skin. Such a small gesture, such a small touch.

Such a wild temptation.

“The sea is good to those who serve,” Calypso whispered, her breath hot on her ear. “Do you still serve, Captain Swann?”

“Yes,” she whispered again, her heart in her throat. Her blood was like fire in her veins, her skin far too tight. “Yes, I still serve.”

“Then let the sea show you what becomes of those who serve.”

The kiss came suddenly, and did not come gently. Calypso’s hand was on her jaw, demanding she open to her, and her tongue was hot and quick as she plunged into her mouth. There was an urgency there, and an almost violent sort of glee- but Elizabeth was hardly in the frame of mind to care. She ached, the years of loyal chastity suddenly weighing desperately on her, and she clung to the goddess and accepted the force of her desire. 

She was giddy, drunk on passion and magic, and she barely took notice when it felt like there were too many hands, too many mouths, too much at once. Calypso was not a woman after all, not even human- her amorous attentions were hardly going to be unremarkable. 

When her knees grew weak and her sobs became pleading, the goddess obliged eagerly and took her down to the sand. Her night gown was rucked up around her waist in moments, and her legs pressed apart by firm hands. She writhed desperately as she felt the soft puff of air against her exposed flesh, Calypso blowing gently on her sex. She heard her cackle, and her hands dug into the sand either side of her hips, bucking upwards as she desperately sought her mouth. 

But the goddess was wily, and would not be outwitted. She pressed an open mouthed kiss to her belly instead, teeth scraping hard enough to leave her whimpering, the sound repeated as she kissed lower and lower. The wicked smile landed next against her smile, tongue tracing an ancient language on her skin, enough to leave her shivering at the power that shuddered through her. 

Calypso sat up suddenly, and Elizabeth looked at her, all but wild with unsatisfied lust. She was naked, her body dark and glistening, lightning sparking even darker shadows in the curves of her body. Her breasts hung low and heavy, her legs spread wide as she knelt between Elizabeth’s legs.

She bared her teeth and ran her tongue over her lips. “Who do you serve?” she snarled, as joyful as she was violent.

“You,” Elizabeth gasped, a plea and a prayer all in one. “I serve you.”

Calypso hissed with pleasure, her shoulders rolling back in a shiver. “A wise choice,” she said, and then she dropped back down and ran her tongue along the sodden line of curls.

Elizabeth let out a sob, hips bucking upwards, and Calypso obliged. She took her nub into her mouth, suckling fiercely while her tongue taunted further. Teasing fingers ran through the slickness, and then in, curling ever so slightly before slipping out again. 

She wondered later what it might have looked like to anyone foolish enough to be wandering the shore before the storm, what they might have seen- two women entwined on the sand, gasping and clawing and arching together as the water surged up and around them.

But those were thoughts for later, thoughts that had no place here and now. Elizabeth wanted to wrap herself around her, hold onto the immensity of the creature delighting upon her cries. She wanted to worship her the same way, to see if one could wring such sounds from the lips of a goddess. 

She did not have to ask- as if she had sensed the desire, Calypso spun about, straddling her shoulders before returning once again to lavish praise upon her sex. Elizabeth had never lain with a woman before, but she knew what it was that pleased her and sought to mimic it. She grasped the goddess by the buttocks and pulled her down, settling her over her mouth. 

Her tongue tingled with power and ecstasy and she gasped, sucking greedily at that which was freely offered for worship. The water was around her, warm as it caressed her skin, the rhythm not at all dissimilar to the erotic back and forth of their mutual pleasuring. 

She could not hold her- it was like trying to hold the sea in her fist, like trying to grasp at a hurricane and keep it in place. Her body was alive with magic and thunder and violence, her blood surging in time to the waves.

It was ancient and beautiful and immense. 

When she came, she dug her nails into the soft curves of her buttocks fiercely enough to draw blood. She wanted to scream, but she did not know how to draw breath adequate enough for what she needed. It was like fire rolling along every fibre of her body, sizzling and searing away all trace of the old Elizabeth. She writhed and she sobbed, clinging and clawing and fighting to be free of it. Her lover continued her erotic attentions, unceasing as she teased with tongue and teeth, wringing every last drop of pleasure from her.

It was too much- she felt sure she was going to explode. The power continued to fill her up til she felt fit to burst all over again, her human body suddenly frail and cumbersome in the wake of what rippled through her. 

And then- it was done. Her limbs twitched, her skin quivering as her body tried to settle once more. She stared blankly at the sky overhead as Calypso rolled away from her, and in a somewhat dazed state she realised she did not know if the goddess had found her satisfaction with her at all. She had been so lost in her own completion that she had not taken note of her lover’s reaction.

Panting for breath, she rolled onto her side- and then jerked into a sitting position when she realised Calypso was not lying beside her. Glancing about frantically, she instead spotted the goddess wading out into the sea, already waist deep, her hands held out to the waves as if welcoming a lover. 

“Where are you going?” she called, then immediately winced. She had not expected a great deal from her, but she had expected at least a goodbye. 

Calypso paused, glancing dreamily over her shoulder. “I have things to attend to,” she said cryptically, continuing to wake into deeper water. Her shape was straining again, the image of Tia Dalma pushing at her vision as something else tried to break through. There were shadows there, and the hint of something immense gathering beneath the waters. 

She did not have the courage to step into the sea and find out exactly what. 

“Will you-” She paused, bit her tongue. Cursed herself for sounding cloying. “Are we concluded?” she asked, for lack of a better word.

The goddess seemed distracted. “You shall have your husband back,” she called, her fingers dancing over the water. “He shall serve you once more when his sentence is up.”

Elizabeth lurched to her feet. “I wasn’t…” Elizabeth took a handful of steps towards the water, stopping where the foam gathered on the shoreline. “I wasn’t whoring myself to you. To get him back, I mean.”

Calypso turned back to her, eyes dark with mischief and power. She shrugged. “A king must serve a queen,” she said. “And your king will return to you, as you have done to me.”

Saying that, she slipped beneath the water, and an enormous bellow of thunder sounded out across the water. A gust of freezing wind brought with it the smell of cold rain, and Elizabeth shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. 

The goddess was satisfied, and the storm was her completion. 

Elizabeth turned her back on the sea and ran all the way home, not looking back over her shoulder even once.


End file.
